Night had fallen over the North.
Snowflakes drifted slowly between the fortress walls, while hundreds of torches spread a golden light across the ancient stone.
The castle was still awake.
Servants crossed the corridors carrying silver trays.
Knights occupied every entrance.
In the distance, the sound of instruments echoed through the great hall.
The footsteps of two figures moved calmly through the main corridor.
Black cloaks swayed with the rhythm of their walk.
Thick gray furs rested over their shoulders, fastened by silver brooches engraved with the white dragon of the North.
Beneath them, dark noble-cut garments matched the fortress's sobriety.
No detail seemed made for ostentation.
Everything conveyed functionality.
Endurance.
Like the very frozen lands they ruled.
The black hair of both had been carefully arranged for the occasion.
Even so, a few rebellious strands reached the nape of their necks.
Éreon walked ahead.
His violet eyes remained fixed on the great door at the end of the corridor.
Without hesitation.
Without shifting his attention.
At his side, Éon kept the same pace.
Black eyes slowly swept across the surroundings.
Guards.
Columns.
Windows.
Entrances.
As if silently recording every detail around him.
The sound of music grew clearer with every step.
When they finally reached the end of the corridor, two guards waited before the enormous black oak doors.
Neither of them spoke a word.
Recognizing the two figures was enough.
The doors began to open slowly.
A wave of light escaped from the hall.
The glow of hundreds of chandeliers completely drove the darkness from the corridor.
Conversations.
Goblets meeting.
The sound of string instruments.
Everything echoed through the great hall.
Éreon crossed the entrance first.
Éon came right behind him.
And in the same instant—
The conversations ceased.
The instruments continued for only a few moments before fading away.
Hundreds of eyes turned toward the entrance.
Nobles.
Knights.
Servants.
All of them silently followed the arrival of the two youths.
Their footsteps echoed across the polished stone floor as they advanced through the vast hall.
Long tables occupied both sides of the chamber, crowded with Northern nobles.
Great ivory-white banners hung between the monumental columns.
Gigantic fireplaces kept the hall warm, casting golden reflections over armor, goblets, and banners.
At the far end...
Upon an elevated platform.
Two thrones dominated the entire hall.
Upon the larger one, Vaelrion sat motionless.
His posture remained the same.
Serene.
Absolute.
At his side...
Éreon's eyes met the woman.
Long silver hair fell like strands of moonlight over her shoulders.
Crimson-red eyes observed the hall with a serenity impossible to interpret.
Her skin carried the delicate pallor of marble illuminated by moonlight.
Ivory-white royal garments, embroidered with gold and rubies, wrapped around her figure with flawless elegance.
Upon her head rested a crown formed from metallic thorns intertwined with blood-red crystals that reflected the firelight like tiny scarlet drops.
For a brief instant...
The entire hall seemed to shrink before her presence.
Éreon's steps did not slow.
Neither did Éon's.
They continued advancing toward the thrones while the silence remained absolute.
No conversation returned.
Hundreds of eyes followed every step of the princes.
At the end of the hall, Vaelrion remained seated upon the throne.
Beside him, the Queen observed the approach of the two brothers.
Her crimson-red eyes traced every detail.
A faint smile appeared on her lips.
"Two princes raised far from the throne."
Her voice was low.
Almost amused.
"One already accustomed to the smell of blood."
Her eyes rested on Éon.
Then shifted to Éreon.
"The other smiles before even moving the first piece."
Vaelrion continued observing their approach.
"It seems your ears remain as attentive as your eyes, Seraphyne."
A brief pause.
"It has not even been a day since your return..."
"...and you already know people you have not even met."
Seraphyne's smile did not disappear.
"Vaelrion..."
"A kingdom is governed first through information."
"Swords merely confirm decisions already made."
At that moment, Éreon and Éon stopped before the throne.
The two knelt simultaneously.
Éreon spoke first.
"May the roots bow before Your Majesties."
Éon repeated the greeting immediately after.
The king held his gaze upon them for a few moments.
"May the North remain unshaken."
Silence reclaimed the hall.
No response came from the queen.
The seconds passed slowly.
Neither of the two moved.
Only the crackling of torches broke the silence.
Then...
Éon slowly raised his head.
His black eyes met Seraphyne's crimson-red gaze directly.
Neither looked away.
A discreet smile appeared on the queen's lips.
"How curious..."
She tilted her head slightly.
"It has been a long time since I've seen someone look at me..."
A brief pause.
"...as though evaluating a threat."
Éreon's violet eyes slowly lifted.
They met Seraphyne's crimson-red gaze.
Neither looked away.
"I ask that Your Majesty not interpret my brother's actions as rebellion."
His voice remained calm.
Without hesitation.
"We were raised far from the throne."
"We received an education different from the one reserved for the nobles of the North."
A brief pause.
"Éon's nature has always resided in extinguishing his adversaries..."
"...before they realize his intentions."
Seraphyne held Éreon's gaze.
The smile on her lips became almost imperceptible.
"How curious..."
Her fingers slowly slid across the arm of the throne.
"You ask that I not consider it an act of rebellion..."
Another brief pause.
"And in the very next instant..."
"...you make certain to remind me why I should remain attentive to him."
Silence.
Éreon continued holding the queen's gaze.
None of the nobles dared look away.
Vaelrion observed them.
Then slowly let his gaze travel across the entire hall.
His fingers tapped the arm of the throne once.
Tok.
The sound seemed to awaken the room.
Hundreds of eyes immediately turned toward Vaelrion.
The king rose slowly.
A servant approached in silence.
Placed a silver goblet into his hand.
Vaelrion raised it only enough for all to see.
"Regardless of where they were raised..."
His voice spread through the hall without needing to rise.
"The blood remains the same."
Golden eyes rested upon Éreon and Éon.
"Tonight, the North does not celebrate only the return of its queen."
A brief pause.
"It also celebrates the return of two descendants of my bloodline."
The hall remained motionless.
"From this moment onward..."
"Éreon is recognized as the Second Prince of the North."
His eyes turned toward Éon.
"And Éon..."
"...as the Third Prince."
No voices answered.
Only the crackling of the fireplaces.
Seraphyne slowly raised her own goblet.
Her crimson-red eyes remained on the king.
"A... bold decision."
Her smile was elegant.
Almost gentle.
"I only hope Your Majesty has considered all the consequences."
Vaelrion met her gaze.
No emotion crossed his face.
"The consequences belong to those who choose to face them."
"No one will touch the blood of my family..."
Golden eyes slowly swept across the entire hall.
"...without first confronting my will."
The entire hall seemed to hold its breath.
Seraphyne held his gaze for a few moments.
Then she smiled.
A discreet smile.
Difficult to interpret.
She finally raised her goblet.
"Then let us toast."
Her eyes slowly wandered across the assembled nobles.
"When these goblets empty..."
A brief pause.
"Remember who shares the same blood."
The smile remained.
"Because I never forget who chooses a side."
Vaelrion did not respond.
He merely raised his own goblet.
"To the North."
Goblets rose throughout the hall.
"To the North."
The goblets slowly returned to the tables.
Little by little, the conversations returned.
First timidly.
Then with more confidence.
The musicians resumed the interrupted melody.
Servants once more circulated among the guests.
Even so...
Eyes continued discreetly returning to the two new princes.
Few approached them.
Most preferred observing them from a distance.
Like men before an unknown piece on the board.
Éreon remained motionless.
A goblet rested in his hand.
Violet eyes slowly swept across the hall.
Éon remained beside him.
Silent.
His black eyes continued recording every face.
Then a voice emerged behind them.
"So this is where you decided to hide."
The two turned almost at the same time.
A young man approached without the slightest hurry.
Short silver-blond hair, slightly disheveled.
Framed a face far too young for the confidence it carried.
Blue-gray eyes seemed to smile before the lips did.
Elegance.
Confidence.
And an almost irritating natural ease.
Without asking permission, he stopped before the brothers.
His fingers briefly rested on Éreon's and Éon's shoulders.
As though greeting old acquaintances.
"Princes of the North..."
An easy smile appeared on his lips.
"It is an honor to finally meet you."
Éreon's violet eyes slowly lowered toward the hand resting on his shoulder.
Then did the same with the hand on Éon.
The young man followed the movement.
Blinking once.
Smiling with almost awkward embarrassment.
"Right..."
He immediately withdrew his hands.
Took a small step back.
Placed a hand over his chest.
Slightly inclined his head.
"I suppose I started the wrong way."
The smile remained.
"Lucien D'Lorien."
Éreon repeated the surname.
"D'Lorien..."
His violet eyes remained on the young man for another moment.
"The firstborn of Marquis Alaric."
Lucien smiled, satisfied.
"I confess that's a relief."
He tilted his head slightly.
"My father usually spends far more time introducing the family."
Éreon continued observing Lucien for a few moments.
A discreet smile appeared on his lips.
"Even so..."
His violet eyes briefly wandered through the hall.
"I imagine the Marquis prefers personally choosing the company of his heir."
Lucien held his gaze.
The smile did not disappear.
On the contrary.
He seemed even more amused by it.
Before he could respond—
"Lucien."
The deep voice emerged among the guests.
Without raising its tone.
Yet enough to interrupt any continuation.
The three turned in the same direction.
Alaric walked toward them.
Golden hair, slightly wavy, reflected the warm glow of the chandeliers.
Dark-blue garments embroidered with silver thread displayed upon the chest the Radiant Sun pierced by a sword — the sigil of House D'Lorien.
His posture was impeccable.
Every step carried the serenity of someone who had crossed decades within the halls of politics without ever losing balance.
When he stopped before the two brothers, he respectfully inclined his head.
"Your Highnesses."
His voice was firm.
Controlled.
"Allow me to offer my welcome to the North."
Light-colored eyes slowly turned toward his son.
"Lucien."
A brief pause.
"What exactly do you think you are doing?"
Lucien once more placed a hand over his chest.
His expression remained almost innocent.
"I was merely greeting the new princes."
A small smile appeared.
"I imagined etiquette still recommended welcoming members of the royal family."
Alaric observed his son for a few seconds.
Soon, he released a discreet sigh.
Like someone accustomed to that kind of answer.
"I see you continue interpreting protocol... in your own manner."
Lucien opened a satisfied smile.
"Only the interesting parts."
The Marquis turned once more toward Éreon and Éon.
"I ask forgiveness for any inconvenience caused by my son."
He gave a brief bow.
"I hope you find in the North a home worthy of your bloodline."
Without adding anything more, he resumed walking.
Lucien merely followed him.
After a few steps, he turned back just enough to cast one final glance toward the two brothers.
That same calm smile remained upon his lips.
"It was a pleasure meeting you."
A brief pause.
"A shame our first meeting happened so late."
Then he returned to following his father.
Éreon watched Lucien and Alaric disappear among the nobles.
A small smile remained on his lips.
"The son seems far more dangerous than the father."
Éon did not respond.
His eyes slowly swept across the hall.
Nobles.
Knights.
Servants.
Musicians.
Nothing seemed out of place.
Even so...
"We are being watched."
His voice came low.
Éreon smiled.
"Since the moment we crossed that door."
Pain pierced through both of their heads.
Without warning.
As though an invisible needle had pierced directly into their consciousness.
The hall vanished.
The warmth of the fireplaces.
The music.
The voices.
For one instant...
Absolutely nothing existed.
Then the world returned.
The two opened their eyes almost simultaneously.
Beneath their feet lay cracked marble, covered in dust and fragments of stone.
Broken columns rose among silent shadows.
Around them...
The ruins of the temple remained motionless, as though forgotten by time itself.
The air was heavy.
Cold.
And filled with a presence difficult to describe.
Éon remained motionless.
Black eyes swept across every direction of the ruins.
The hidden sky above them.
Then slowly lowered.
On the ground...
A perfectly carved circle in the broken marble surrounded them both.
The grooves glowed with an almost imperceptible red.
Éreon observed the same symbol.
No surprise crossed his face.
Only a faint smile.
"I see..."
His hand slowly rose toward his own neck.
Fingers touched the skin.
They soon found something.
Violet eyes shifted toward Éon.
A thin scarlet vine slowly crept along the side of his neck.
Like roots searching for nourishment.
Éreon stepped closer.
His fingers discreetly pulled aside the fabric of his brother's clothing.
At the center of the shoulder...
A crimson rose bloomed upon the skin.
The petals pulsed softly.
Like a heart.
An almost amused smile appeared on his lips.
"He marked us."
Violet eyes remained upon the rose.
"While pretending to break etiquette."
In the next instant...
Éon staggered.
A searing pain tore through his head.
His knees struck the cracked marble.
His breathing became irregular.
One hand clutched his forehead while his eyes remained shut.
Beneath the skin of his neck, thin black filaments began to pulse.
Like living roots.
Slowly spreading beneath the flesh.
Éreon turned immediately.
The faint smile vanished.
Violet eyes analyzed his brother for only an instant.
It was enough.
"This is bad..."
The words came low.
Éon did not seem to hear him.
The pain intensified.
Fragments of memories crossed his consciousness.
Places he had never visited.
People he had never known.
Wars he had never fought.
Thousands of voices.
Thousands of thoughts.
As though an entire existence were being poured into his mind.
Then...
A single voice remained.
Serene.
Ancient.
Familiar.
"First lesson..."
"Everyone is your enemy."
"Everyone is your ally."
A brief pause.
"Every possibility exists before the first choice is even made."
"Contemplate them all."
"And nothing will ever be capable of surprising you."
Éon's body trembled.
The black filaments spread several more centimeters beneath the skin.
Éreon slowly raised his gaze.
His eyes swept across the silent ruins.
The shadows among the wreckage began to move.
As though darkness itself were taking shape.
"So it begins..."
Violet filaments emerged around them.
Slowly slithering.
Like creatures awakening after a long sleep.
His eyes remained on Éon.
"Hold on."
His voice was firm.
Unquestionable.
"Whatever it is you are seeing..."
A brief pause.
Violet eyes turned toward the advancing shadows.
"You have to endure it."
Around them, the shadows began gaining mass.
Black bodies slowly emerged from the darkness.
Elongated.
Bestial.
Jaws filled with fangs.
Claws scraped across the marble as they advanced.
Red eyes opened one by one.
The first wolf vanished from its place.
Appearing directly before Éon.
Its fangs were already descending toward his neck.
Before it could reach him...
The violet filaments pierced through the creature's head.
The impact made its body explode into dozens of dark fragments.
For one brief instant...
Silence returned.
Then...
The fragments trembled.
Every piece twisted upon the marble.
Like flesh trying to remember its form.
Two new wolves rose from the same destroyed body.
Éreon's violet eyes remained still.
No surprise.
Only calculation.
Around him...
Claws slowly slid across the stone.
The violet filaments coiled around his body.
Following every movement of the creatures.
Éreon cast one last glance toward Éon.
Still kneeling.
Still trapped within his own consciousness.
He turned his eyes toward the pack.
A small smile appeared.
"So this is how it will be."
The first step echoed through the ruins.
And every wolf lunged at once.